Yearning to Break Free
by Callista Curnow
Summary: After Fenris is captured by a Tevinter Magister Hawke tries to negotiate his release. But is the price of freedom to high? FenrisXHawke More to come.
1. Chapter 1

It's been a really long time since I've last writen any fanfiction, but Dragon Age II inspired me. Obviously all the characters belong to Bioware, I'm just playing around with them.

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><p>Chapter 1: Freedom Lost<p>

"_I've been thinking of you. In fact I've been able to think of little else. Command me to go, and I shall."_

_His eyes burned with longing and pain. He stood inches away from her, and she could swear he was holding his breath._

"_No need." She said, mesmerized by those burning green eyes._

_He lunged at her like an arrow loosened from a bow. He kissed her deeply, his arms wrapping around her to hold him tight against her. She barely had the sense to kiss him back…_

"This is pointless" Isabella said, breaking Hawke away from her thoughts.

The sun was already beginning to set on what was supposed to be their afternoon meeting location.

"So what's your solution? Give up and go home?" Hawke replied, her tone making it clear what she thought of that plan.

"We've been waiting for hours…" Isabella said, though her resolution seemed to waver under Hakwe's gaze.

"I'll wait here all night if that is what it takes." Hakwe said firmly.

"That will not be necessary m'Serah." A voice said from the shadows.

A man emerged as if from nowhere, his clothes and accent marked him as a free man of Tevinter.

"Magister Deavon?" Hakwe said skeptically, the man did not carry the air of a Magister.

"Oh no," the man chuckled, "I am his apprentice, you did not think the Magister would meet with strangers in the back alleys of some slum, did you?"

Hawke had expected as much.

"Then you will take me to him." She said, making it more of a command then a request.

"That will not be necessary, Serah." Deavon's Apprentice said, "Whatever offer you have for the Magister you can give to me and I will pass it along. We will be in contact if it is an offer he wishes to pursue."

The sneer on his face said he did not think that was likely. Hawke wanted to plant her dagger right in the middle of that face, but that would get her nowhere. She took a deep breath to compose herself before moving forward.

"Is the Magister his aware of who I am?" She said taking a threatening step towards him, "Is he aware of what I'm capable of?"

She pointed towards the smoldering ruins of the Chantry. Of course, that was Anders handy work, not hers, but the rumors told it differently. She was not above taking advantage of those rumors for intimidation.

"I _will_ tear this city apart to find him," She continued menacingly, "All I ask of the Magister is an audience, and I shall have it."

"Now, now." He said, the sneer on his face faltering briefly, "There is no need for threats. I suppose the Magister could make time for someone of your… influence."

As if summoned from thin air, three more men appeared from the shadows. The first man made a move towards Hawk, she moved away quickly drawing one of her daggers.

"Serah, you cannot expect us to reveal the Magister's location." Deavon's Apprentice said, "You must wear a blindfold. Additionally we must ask you to relinquish your weapons."

"Nah, if you want to take my weapons you'll have to pry them out of my cold, dead fingers." Isabella said, drawing her own twin blades.

Hawke felt a cold pit growing in her stomach. The situation had long since passed suspicious, but what choice did she have? She drew her other dagger and threw her weapons to the ground.

"This is crazy!" Isabella cried, "So he just happened to bring big guys with blindfolds, even though he had no intention of bringing us to the Magister? Something shady's going on here."

"Issie, I need to do this and I need you with me." Hawke said under her breath, "You owe me."

"Dammit Hawke," she mumbled letting her daggers fall out of her hands.

The men threw thick sacks over their heads and pushed them along. They walked for what had to be nearly an hour. Hawke was certain they doubled back a couple times and by the time they stopped Hawke was thoroughly lost. Once they pulled the sack off her head she scanned the room trying to figure out where they were. She had to hand it to the Magister the location was deftly chosen. The walls were cloaked in darkness and the stone floors could have just as easily been a wine cellar near the docks as it could be the basement of a high town estate. Candle stands light a space around a finely crafted chair. In the chair sat a man wearing robes of rich red velvets and cloth of gold.

"Magister Deavon, I presume." Hawke said dryly.

"You presume correctly." The Magister replied, "It seems you are full of presumptions. Well allow me to set you straight, I have condescended to hear you but I will not be browbeaten like my Apprentice."

The sound of bowstrings being drawn cut through the room. Numerous arrowheads reflecting the candlelight glinted in the shadows like stars in the sky. The slim hope she had of fighting her way out was crushed. She glanced back and met Isabella's eyes, I-told-you-so was written there as plainly as if she had spoken it aloud.

"I want to see him." Hawke said putting on the air of confidence she didn't feel.

"And why should I allow that?" the Magister asked with an amused grin on his face.

"Before I can make my offer, I need to see for myself that he is still alive." She replied.

"Very well," the Magister said with an indulgent chuckle.

He signaled to the man servants to his left and a few moments later they returned dragging a slumped figure into the light and dumped it onto the floor. Naked and bound he was in worse shape that Hawke had dared fear. His usually tan colored skin was sickly pale and nasty black bruises covered him from head to toe.

"Fenris!" She gasped her confident façade gone. She rushed forward and fell to her knees beside him, pulling his head up into her lap. His body trembled against her, his wide green eyes were filled with fear and pain. Gone was the strong, confident man prone to terrible fits of rage and passion. Gone was the whirlwind warrior, the wonton lover.

"Hawke?" He whispered through a busted lip. What a mess they had made of those beautiful lips.

"Oh Fenris," she said cupping his cheek in her hand, "What have they done to you?"

"He has developed disregard for the authority of his master." The Magister said unapologetically, "Physical pain and humiliation are the first steps of breaking a brazen spirit."

"We're going to get you out of here." Hawke said, brushing Fenris' hair back away from his face.

"I'm afraid that is not possible," the Magister interjected, "He belonged to my father, and now he belongs to me. He is not for sale."

"Everything has its price." Hawke said not taking her eyes from Fenris, "Everything can be bought and sold."

She tenderly stroked his hair and she could feel his body relaxing. His eyes closed and his head fell back, exposing his throat. Her left hand drifted down towards the knife hidden in her boot. One quick movement across the throat and it would be done. Bitter tears stung her eyes, was this really what it would take for him to find peace at last? And as soon as she was done the arrows would fly and at this range it was a sure shot. Would she have enough time to plant the knife into the Magister's chest before she bled out? She would gladly die right now if it meant the death of the man who had done this to Fenris. But what about Isabella, could she throw away her life too?

"Do you know how Fenris came by his lyrium markings?" The Magister mused, "Every year the people of Tevinter celebrate the Festival of Champions and every Magister puts forth a champion. Hundreds of slaves enter into battle until there is only one survivor. Fenris was not only one of these surviving champions, but he was one of the few to survive receiving his lyrium markings. He is a warrior that knows no superior, and he is not for sale at any price."

Fenris was so peaceful, lying there in her arms. She wanted peace for him and she knew now how to give it to him.

"I am his superior." Hawke said, "I propose a trade."

Fenris' eyes shot open.

"Hawke, no…" He gasped.

"A trade?" The Magister asked his tone betraying his interest.

"Grant Fenris his freedom, and I am yours." She said.

"What?" Isabella broke in.

Hawke shot her a look and she fell into sullen silence.

"NO!" Fenris' deep voice boomed.

She looked down at him, pleased to see him more like his old self. He struggled violently against his bindings a lyrium blue glow surrounding him and his face was contorted into a fiery rage. She put her right arm across his chest and pulled him close.

"I love you." She whispered into his ear. She drew her boot knife and brought the hilt down on his head. His body went limp and she rose to her feet.

"You were supposed to take away their weapons." The Magister said to his apprentice, clearly displeased.

"It is impossible for to two parties to negotiate when one is at the point of a blade." Hawke said, "Now we're both at the point of a blade."

"Forgive me if I still believe I hold the upper hand." The Magister said spreading his hands towards his archers.

"Are you confident they can put me down before I reach you?" Hawke replied, "I'm here to either trade myself into slavery or to die in bloody glory, I think I have the upper hand."

That gave the Magister pause.

"Lyrium warriors are a status symbol in the Imperium." He said slowly, "As imposing as you are, my dear, you are not nearly as valuable. I cannot simply trade him for you."

"What if I were to compete in this Festival of Champions and earn my own lyrium markings?" Hawke asked.

"Even if you defeated all the other champions and survived your wounds," the Magister said, "You would still need to survive receiving the markings, a feat no champion since Fenris has accomplished."

"We are at an impasse then?" Hawke said, twirling the knife around her fingers. An odd peace came over her. Her life was forfeit and all her will was bent towards a single goal.

"Perhaps we could come to some sort of… compromise." The Magister said, eyeing her knife nervously, "Come with me, and if you manage to gain lyrium markings I will relinquish my claim on Fenris."

"Fenris stays here, if I die you can continue your hunt then." Hawke said.

"I have him now, why should I let him go only to recapture him later?" The Magister inquired.

"Because of his, what did you call it? Brazen spirit." Hawke replied, "He has had a taste of freedom, and will never be easy until he is free. I, on the other hand, will be as compliant as you require as long as I know he is safe."

The Magister gave her a hard glare, he seemed to be considering her words for several long moments.

"Fine," He said, "We have a deal."

Hawke turned to Isabella, who was gaping at her openly. She moved in close to Hawke.

"Please tell me you have a plan." She said in a low voice.

"Of course I have a plan," Hawke replied in a hushed tone, "And your part of that plan is to get Fenris out of here. Don't worry about me."

She favored Isabella with a wink as she handed over her knife hilt first. Isabella looked skeptical, but she did not struggle when a guard took her by the arm and lead her out. Another man followed with Fenris slung over his shoulder.

"Goodbye Issie," Hawke said sadly. She felt bad for lying to her, but she knew she couldn't get her to leave any other way.

She looked over to the Magister who wore a look like the cat who got the cream.

"So what now?" Hawke asked.

The Magister nodded at one of his man servants, who stepped forward and punched Hawke hard in the stomach. She doubled over, and boot caught her square in the jaw sending her sprawling to the floor. The taste of blood flooded her mouth.

"You will not speak unless spoken to first," The Magister said sternly, "And you will address me as Master, do you understand?"

"Yes…Master." Hawke said, the word 'master' tasting worse than the blood.

"Yes," The Magister said with a chuckle, "That's better, but let's see if we can't work on that tone."

Another barrage of blows rained down on her. She never felt the majority of them, however, as she lost her slippery grasp on consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Truth or Lie

He awoke with a gasp, his body ached and the sharp pain in his head made his vision all blurry. 'Where am I?' He wondered gathering up the soft red sheets in his hands he suddenly knew where he was. Memories hit him like a Gholem's punch. His hands desperately searched the bed. 'Let me find her, let it all be a bad dream…'. He found only an empty bed. His vision slowly began to clear, and the familiar surroundings of Hawke's bedroom took shape, but Hawke was nowhere to be found. He hurriedly tried to leave the bed but his legs buckled underneath him and he fell to the floor.

"AAAAARRRGG!" He screamed in anguish.

Bethany's face appeared above him.

"Your leg is broken," She said, "You ought to stay off it."

She put an arm around him and half carried, half dragged him to the bed. She looked down considering him coldly.

"Hawke, she may be in trouble we need to…" Fenris started in a rush.

"Avaline has half the city guard looking for her." Bethany said, cutting him off, "Your help will not be required, you've done enough."

An awkward silence fell between them. Bethany had never been friendly with him, but she was usually civil.

"Bethany, I'm so sorry…" Fenris said.

"I don't want your apologies, elf." Bethany growled, "I've lost my father, my brother, my mother and now, because of you, my sister may be lost to me as well."

"Do you think you're the only one who has lost something in this?" Fenris asked, his anger started flaring up, "If I could have stopped her I would have."

"Spare me," Bethany said, "Something like this was bound to happen. You traipsed into her life like you belonged there, but the truth is you didn't belong there. No, you were destined to ruin her from the moment you first loved her. If you really cared for her at all, you would have walked away."

Fenris' let out a small grunt as if he had been punched, it would have been kinder if she had punched him.

"Get out." Fenris said through clenched teeth, "Now."

Bethany's righteous anger faltered under Fenris' cold rage, she backed out the door and left. Fenris swung his fist and smashed the lamp sitting next to the bed. Shattered glass and oil sprayed across the room, but it didn't make him feel any better. He slumped back into the bed. Rage, sorrow, guilt and pain flooded through him. He felt so weak, weaker even than he had felt being worked over by Deavon's thugs. Bethany's accusation bounced around in his head '_You were destined to ruin her from the moment you first loved her'_. Memories came to him as he drifted into a fitful sleep, and he dreamed…

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><p>The night was warm and the full moon was so bright it caused the trees to cast dappled shadows on the ground. Hawke strolled beside him with that casual but dangerous swagger she reserved for when she was getting ready for a fight. Fenris could see the orange glow of a camp fire in the clearing ahead, he gestured to Hawke and they both went into a crouch to creep up on the camp. Their cautious silence was unnecessary; the camp was bustling with laughter, drinking and bawdy songs. On the outskirts of the camp people milled about locked in roughhewn cages or chained to the ground. The bleakness surrounding them made for a stark contrast to the cheerfulness of the slavers. Fenris scanned the camp and his heart sank.<p>

"There's too many of them." He whispered sadly, "There weren't supposed to be this many."

"I count twenty," Hawke replied back, "We can take 'em"

"It's too dangerous," Fenris said.

He might have been willing to risk his own life against those odds, but Hawke had been a truer friend than he had ever had and he would not let his reckless nature put her in such danger.

"We're at least half a day's walk back to Kirkwall," Hawke replied, "If we leave now to get reinforcements they could be gone by the time we get back."

Fenris looked again at the would-be slaves, bound in the darkness. He and Hawke could give them their freedom back, or they could get themselves killed. Hawke touched his arm lightly.

"Think about it, Fenris," She said, "I'm going to circle the perimeter and take out any sentries they've put up. If we don't engage them directly the least I can do is make the bastards bleed a little."

Fenris watched her slip away. Somehow, despite the clear bright night she managed to disappear into the shadows. He turned his eyes back to the camp as he considered their options. He knew Hawke was right, it was either fight now or turn away. He flexed his sword hand as he watched the men before him. Most had bottles of wine or flasks of ale in their hands, but Fenris knew he could not count on that as an advantage. Alcohol sometimes lent courage to cowardly men making them a terror in battle.

A shrill scream pierced the night air. Fenris instinctively drew his sword. In the camp a burly slaver pushed a woman towards the camp fire.

"What ya doing with that one, Sol?" Someone called out.

"Fixin' to have a little fun." Sol replied. He reached around to grab the woman's backside. She slapped him in the face.

"Oh, she's got a little fight in her." He laughed and grabbed her by the bodice of her dress and pulled down tearing it wide open. The woman fell to her knees sobbing and covering herself with her hands. Fenris involuntarily jerked forward to help her but stopped himself. Without Hawke it was suicide to intervene, all he could do is watch as Sol fumbled with his belt buckle. He had his pants half way down when he jerked forward and fell, an arrow sticking out of the back of his head. The woman screamed again scooting backwards from the corpse. The boisterous camp fell into as still silence. Another arrow flew through the air catching another slaver in the chest. The silence broke with the sound of weapons being drawn and shouting men. Everyone seemed to move at once. Yet another arrow flew through the air but missed its target altogether. Fenris rushed forward, the slavers were so distracted with finding the source of the arrows that they didn't notice him until he was among them. His first arcing slash took down two men and nicked a third. He got in a few more vicious blows before the remaining men turned on him. He moved defensively warding off the blows of multiple blades. Slowly, men were moving around his sides to flank him. An axe flew at him from left field, too quick for Fenris to block. From behind Fenris a shining blade flashed like a striking snake, it turned aside the axe blade and slashed its owner in the face. Hawke spun around to his right side, driving back the men and funneling into the path of Fenris' sword. Fenris had fought with others in the past, but it had never been as good as it was with Hawke. He could rely on her to watch his back and keep him safe. They moved as one and their foes fell, one by one. Fenris parried a desperate blow from the last man standing. He reached into his chest and crushed his heart and the man was dead before he hit the ground. Fenris scanned the battlefield scattered with the broken bodies of dead or dying men. The slave woman Sol had accosted sat amongst the corpses, trembling with fear. Fenris bent down and tore the cloak off one of the fallen men. He pulled the woman to her feet and settled the cloak around her shoulders.

"It's ok, you're safe now." He said attempting to comfort her.

She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. Fenris stiffened uncomfortably and looked over at Hawke for help but she was moving from body to body, giving mercy to the men who were not yet dead.

"We must free the others." The slave woman said grabbing him by the hand and pulling him towards the cages.

"I…" he began, looking again towards Hawke.

"I think it's your turn to be the hero tonight," Hawke said with a laugh, "You're more suited to rescuing damsels in distress anyhow."

So he went with the woman striking chains, opening cages. There was more awkward crying and hugging as well. Fenris was relieved when they were all done. Hawke had cleared all the bodies out of the camp and piled all the slaver's gear by the fire. She moved among the slaves, dividing up the coin she had found on the bodies.

"What will we do now?" Someone asked.

"My suggestion is to camp here tonight." Hawke said, "In the morning, make your way back to your homes."

Of course it wasn't that easy. Hawke helped to organize the camp, while Fenris showed a few of the men some basic sword techniques in case some wayward slavers returned. When he was confident they knew enough to defend themselves he left them to their practice and went looking for Hawke. She was nowhere to be found within the camp. When he asked some of the women in the camp they pointed him off into the forest.

He followed the trail a ways into a clearing occupied by a small pond. Hawke's armor and weapons sat in a tidy pile at its bank. In the pond Hawke lounged against the bank, her head propped up against a pile of rocks. Her usually tied back hair was loose, the crimson locks spilled over her shoulders and into the water. Despite the fact she was fully clothed something felt indecent about the whole situation. Fenris had never seen her look so…womanly.

"Are you going to stand there watching or are you going to join me?" Hawke said, making Fenris jump.

"I can't swim." Fenris said defensively.

"The water's shallow," Hawke replied, "Come on Fenris. You're covered in blood; a bath would do you good."

Fenris sighed and began to remove his armor. He felt strangely naked without it, even in his mansion he slept in his armor more often than not. He slipped into the water and was surprised to find it quite warm. He tilted his head back letting the water seep into his hair, it felt heavenly. He let out a low moan of approval. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught Hawke looking at him appraisingly. He held his breath and dunked his head under the water, hoping Hawke didn't see the blush spreading across his cheeks. He felt so silly. He was no stranger to the lusty looks of women, but why did he feel so uncomfortable when Hawke did it? When he came up for air Hawke had her head back against the rocks and her eyes closed. 'I must have imagined it.' He thought to himself, raking his fingers through his wet hair.

"I told you we could take 'em." Hawke said, breaking the silence.

"We didn't have much of a choice after you shot one of them in the head." Fenris replied.

"What that man was about to do to that woman… You would have never forgiven yourself if we just let it happen." She said.

"Ah I see, so it's all about me now." He replied jokingly.

"Well, I can forgive myself just about anything if the reasons are right." Hawke said, "But I know you Fenris. You carry too much already, you didn't need to add this to the list."

She rose out of the water and moved towards the bank. Her loose blouse clung to her skin showing soft curves where Fenris was accustomed to seeing hard steel. He turned away and busied himself with scrubbing the blood out of his clothes and skin. He tried to push thoughts of those soft curves out of his head. This was Hawke, a woman who could tear through a dozen men, not some cheap whore at the Blooming Rose.

"I filched some whiskey from the camp." Hawke said from the bank, "Will you drink with me?"

He heard the sound of a popping cork and he turned forcing himself to look at the bottle in her hand rather than the unraveling laces of her blouse. He lifted himself onto the bank and sat down besides her leaving his feet to dangle in the water. Hawke took a long swig.

"Let's play a game," She said passing the bottle to Fenris, "It goes like this. I ask you a question, and you can either tell me the truth or a lie. I try and guess which it is, if I guess right you take a drink if, I don't I take a drink."

"Why?" Fenris asked.

"What do you mean why?" Hawke said.

"What is the purpose of the game?" He said.

"So we can get to know each other better," She replied, "And to get drunk."

"Ok..." Fenris said. He took a sniff of the bottle, the whiskey was so strong it made his eyes water. "When you talk about your life as a slave it always sounds so horrible. Was there anything at all that made you happy back then?" Hawke asked.

"Denarius had this cook, an old woman named Maggie." Fenris replied after some thought, "She used to make these little pear cakes, sometimes she would make extras and let me have some. I loved those pear cakes."

"Well that's the truth," Hawke said, "You're bad at this game."

Fenris shrugged and took a swig from the bottle. The alcohol burned down his throat, but left a warm feeling in his chest.

"Your turn," he said, "Why did you really agree to come with me tonight?"

"You aren't the only person who wants to see slaves freed, Fenris." Hawke said, "I came for them."

"No," Fenris said watching her face, trying to glean the truth from those gray eyes, "That isn't the truth, at least not all of it."

Hawke took the bottle from Fenris and drank deeply. She looked at him thoughtfully.

"Remember when you told me about your escape from Denarius. You told me he ordered you to kill the fog warriors that were protecting you, and you did." Hawke took a deep breath, "If Denarius ordered you to kill me, would you?"

"I don't know," Fenris replied.

She gave him a hard look as if she was trying to see into his soul, she handed him the bottle.

"Yes you do." She said and Fenris took a long drink. She was right, he knew he would never hurt her. Why couldn't he tell her that? He suddenly felt light headed, the whiskey was taking effect. A question popped into his head, something that had always bothered but he had never known why. The alcohol gave him just enough courage to ask.

"Did you sleep with Isabella?" He asked staring at his feet in the water.

"Yes, she was spectacular!" Hawke said gleefully.

"The truth…" he said sadly holding the bottle out towards Hawke. She pushed it back towards him laughing.

"That isn't to say she didn't try." Hawke said as Fenris took another drink. He wondered why he felt so relieved.

"Did you sleep with Isabella?" Hawke asked.

"No." Fenris said. He could feel a blush burning on his cheeks as he remembered a night at the Hanged Man when things with Isabella had come very close.

"You liar!" Hawke said.

"Truly," He said, "Do you take me for some sort of whore?"

"No," Hawke said, taking a drink, "But Isabella can be very persistent, and she finds you to be quite… striking."

Fenris' head was spinning and he was well and truly drunk.

"What about you?" Fenris asked hesitantly, "Do you find me striking?"

"You aren't exactly my type…" She said, and it was her turn to blush.

"I didn't ask if I was your type," He said, "I asked if you thought I was attractive."

"Shut up, you know you're pretty," Hawke said, shoving him playfully.

He grabbed her wrist pulling her towards him. She shifted her body weight pushing him over. They wrestled in the grass. He was stronger than her but he could find no purchase on her lithe body. Shortly he found himself on his back with Hawke straddled him holding each of his arms down above his head. He struggled a little but her warm body pressed hard against him, holding him down. He looked up at her, she bit her lip looking back down at him hungrily. It was so unexpected and yet it felt so right. Suddenly he wanted her more than anything. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes offering himself to her. A silken strand of her hair brushed against his lips as she moved closer causing a tingle to spread throughout his body.

"Please…" He whispered weakly.

The sharp sound of a breaking branch shattered everything. Hawke shot up and twisted to meet the gray figure as it came barreling down on them. By the time Fenris could find his feet a man's dead body lay before Hawke. She held his bloody sword in her left hand… but she was right handed. His eyes fell on her right arm. It was torn open from shoulder to wrist.

"You're hurt!" He cried, not able to think of anything more eloquent to say.

"Yeah, that's quite a scratch," She said. She tried to take a step forward but stumbled and fell to her knees. Fenris rushed forward, he tore off her sleeves and used the fabric to staunch the flow of blood.

"We need to find help." He said scooping her up into his arms. He rushed into the forest back towards the slaver's former camp. He glanced down at Hawke, her face was pale and her lips were blue.

"Hawke," he said, giving her a shake. She didn't respond.

"Lilah!" He shouted, her first name sounding strange to his ears but her eyes opened slowly, "You need to stay awake, talk to me."

"Pretty Fenris," Hawke said, delirious with blood loss and probably still a little drunk. Her head fell against his chest, "I was going to kiss you."

"I know." Fenris said.

"It would have been so nice," She mumbled.

Fenris grit his teeth as the camp came into site. It was pointless to think about how nice it might have been the moment was gone now. As soon as he entered the camp he began shouting for help. He lay Hawke down by the fire a crowed began gathering around them. A gnarled old woman pushed through the crowd. She laboriously bent to her knees and gave Hawke's open wound a poke.

"I'll be needing some strips of cloth, some of that whiskey, a pair of tongs, and plenty of water." She said, nobody moved, "Well, be quick about it!"

There was a mad scramble as people rushed about the camp. Shortly the woman had everything she asked for. She uncorked the bottle of whiskey.

"You, elf." The old woman said pointing at Fenris, "You'll need to hold her down."

Obediently Fenris placed his hands on Hawke's shoulders. The old woman upended the bottle pouring the amber liquid directly into the gash on Hawke's arm. Hawke's body jerked but Fenris held her down. Her eyes shot open wide with shock.

"It's ok," Fenris said, "You'll be ok, it's just going to hurt a bit."

The old woman took the tongs and plucked a glowing red ember from the fire. Hawke turned her head to look at her, gaping. Fenris placed a hand under her chin and gently pulled her face towards him.

"Look at me," He said.

When the old woman placed the glowing ember against Hawke's skin she clenched her teeth but she remained still. She held Fenris' gaze, the shock in her eyes was replaced with a steely determination. An odd feeling came over him then, something he could not place. In the course of a single night he felt like everything had been upended. The old woman finished her work by wrapping Hawke's arm in the strips of cloth.

"She'll need to see a proper doctor," She said, "But as long as she rest the night she should be just fine."

The relief that flooded Fenris then was like a revelation. The odd feeling suddenly had a name, it was hope and despair all wrapped up together. He was in love with Lilah Hawke.

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><p>Author's Note:<p>

I'd like to thank everyone who commented on and favorited my story. I hope you all enjoy the subsequent chapters just as much.

To answer one of the questions I received this story may end up being quite lengthy (I do have a clear plan for where it's going) but I tend to write quite slowly, so it may take a while.


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